We are not living aimlessly.

"Don't just live aimlessly!"

I really disliked the NHK program where that catchphrase became strangely popular.
It wasn't about the content of the program; I just didn't like that phrase. That was all.
It started when I was told this phrase by a somewhat tactless aunt of mine back when I barely knew the show. She probably just said it because it was a trendy phrase, thinking it was funny. But unexpectedly, it really struck a nerve.

I am not living aimlessly.
At the time, I had just started living with my same-sex partner, and it had been less than a year since we took our wedding photos. As two people with female bodies, we had to think about how we would walk forward from here, and I already knew that just because my partner wasn't of the opposite sex, the road ahead would be difficult. That's why, even if it was just a trendy phrase, I couldn't overlook it. There's no way I'm living aimlessly.
Behind the back of my aunt, who I hadn't come out to, I, her niece, am living through my own fair share of hardships.

A while ago, when I was talking to a friend about train etiquette, my friend said, "If only everyone could keep in mind that everyone else is going through their own struggles..."
I really think that's true.
Men who spread their legs wide and crowd the space on either side, or men who use the shoulder of a short person like me as an armrest to use their phones on a crowded train—these behaviors that make you want to furrow your brow stand out, but if you look around, that's not necessarily always the case.
There are men who shrink themselves to avoid taking up space, aunts who glare at you just because you brushed against them, and young women who keep hitting my face with their ponytails.

Everyone is not living listlessly.
Work, home, family, friends. Caregiving, child-rearing, side jobs. Worries about one's own body and the future.
Whether they are the type to always have a serious face or look obviously depressed, or that person who is always cheerful, or that person who seems to have no worries, or even that person who seems careless—everyone is living with something, and everyone is struggling in their own way.
If you think, "That person seems to have it harder, so I'm fine," you'll eventually break down, and the reverse will likely break someone else.
That's why, even just regarding train etiquette, if everyone could think, "Everyone is struggling in their own way," it would surely be a bit better than it is now.

Recently, there have been a series of sad events among people in my professional circle.
I tell them, "If there's anything I can do," and there are actually jobs I'm handling on their behalf.
The people themselves say, "Thank you, you're kind," but no matter how you look at it, it's mutual. They helped me when I was in trouble at work, and they've covered for me when I had sudden health issues or took time off because I wanted to go to a concert. Returning what I've received is the right thing to do when working together.
It's the right thing to do, and since they are people who know my partner is a woman and that we don't have children, and they naturally say things like, "It must be hard for you too, Shiina-san," I want to help within my capacity. At the very least, I want to think of them the way they think of me.
Everyone is struggling, so we support each other. Listening to each other and having someone listen to us. If I'm always the one being helped, I have to return the favor as much as I can, or the logic that keeps things running will eventually stop working. When it stops working, I think the trust from the other person will have diminished more than I realize, so I want to return what I can before that happens.
Because everyone is struggling, yet they are good to me. I think it's a bit of a miracle that we met and that they care for me and treat me well while they are struggling themselves.

On various occasions, I repeatedly say, "Everyone is struggling, you know." I happened to say that just the other day.
Then my partner, while turning her back to me to cook, said, "There's no one who has nothing going on. Everyone is struggling, so it's okay for you to be 'struggling' too."
It was the same when I was talking to a senior colleague who was good to me and was planning to quit. When I told her that it was fine for me to work overtime, she said, "Shiina, you have to go home and cook dinner, too," telling me I didn't have to wear myself out for everything like that.
Everyone is struggling, and I am struggling too.

A while ago, there was a moment where I had to unexpectedly come out to the aforementioned aunt. My cousin had let it slip to my aunt that I had bought a condo. It would have been a hassle if she thought I had enough income to buy it on my own. So, regarding the purchase, I had to mention her anyway, so I had no choice but to say it.
"Oh, that thing, the trendy thing, right?"
"It's not really... 'trendy,' but, well, yeah."
I couldn't say, "Sexual minorities have always been here regardless of trends and will continue to be," but I guess even my aunt knows about it. Well, I suppose so.
I braced myself for her to say something unnecessary about the vague word "trendy." But the unexpected words that unraveled the tightness in my heart, where I didn't know what she would say, were:
"That doesn't matter."
For my aunt, it seemed that not reporting a life milestone like buying a home was a bigger problem than being a sexual minority and having a girlfriend.
"You're with someone you think is good, right? Huh? Is it that childhood friend of yours? Well, that's the best, it was meant to be."
After saying that to me while I was flustered, she hung up the call quite casually.

Huh? She used to be the type to say all sorts of things. Oh, she had updated herself in her own way.

Turns out, my aunt isn't living aimlessly either.

Everyone, me, and my aunt are all struggling, and none of us are living aimlessly.